How To Rock Going from Rags to Riches
by Finnick the Canadian
Summary: When homeless teen Zander Robbins gets the much needed janitor job at Rocque Records, there is no promises that he won't get into trouble or try out the best music recording equipment in the industry. But what happens when he meets pop superstar Stevie Baskara? And how will his dream of becoming a worldwide superstar come true? This Zevie story has a bit of Rags & Aladdin mixed in.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 – You're Never in Trouble Unless You're Caught**

**Zander's POV**

"You're never in trouble unless you're caught, Zander," I remind myself. I'm in that all too familiar situation where I'm running from the cops for stealing a sweater from Old Navy. Sprinting all over Los Angeles, just trying to ahead is the largest, most exhilarating activity on earth. With a cop car gaining on me, I sprint ahead trying to gain as speed to get away.

"Kid, get back here," one of the cops yells from the window of the cop car. I take that as signal to run faster.

Scanning the possibilities for any place to escape, I see a fire escape of a large apartment building. I run into the alleyway that luckily is too small for a large cop car that was following me for about twenty blocks. The cops realize that their car won't fit, but luckily for me that wasn't until I was halfway up. I keep climbing and there's nothing stopping me. Well, nothing until I get to the top.

The policemen finally have caught up with me. They start approaching me with handcuffs showing. I back up not realizing that I'm going into a corner. A second pair of policemen is blocking the fire escape so that I've got no escape.

"Zander Robbins, we meet again," said Officer Paterna. We have crossed paths on many occasions and he is yet to catch me when I have stolen something. I seem to always be one step ahead, but not today.

"Yes, we have," I say with a smile on my face. I literally on the edge of the building and one more step off then I would fall 16 stories to the hard pavement. I slowly and calmly pull out from the pocket of the sweater and pull out a pair of skydiving goggles and climbing gloves that I stole about a year ago. "But sir if you don't mind me saying something before you arrest me?" I ask.

"Talk. We've got you surrounded," he says laughing.

"Well, since I can't go left or right and straight really isn't an option, what if I go BACK AND DOWN," I yell as I take my leap of faith down. The goggles shield my eyes as gravity pulls me down. There's nowhere to land other than, the cop car. I try my hardest to position myself on the hood of the car and about halfway down I pull out a pair of black safety gloves in case I shatter the glass.

The ground and the car seem as close that ever. I hit the hood hard on my side. The windshield was smashed in; but luckily glass didn't shatter and none got on me. The pain is excruciating, but I've done and felt worse. The cops look down in disbelief and the finally start running down the fire escape. I shake off the pain and begin the chase again. By the time I get out of the alley they're not even halfway down yet. Like I said, one jump ahead.

I run over to a crowded pier where everyone is hanging out and no really thinks anything's wrong. The noise, the neon lights of people's game stands and the crowds of people playing games help me blend in. I leave my gloves on, but not my goggles. All I need to do is wait it out until the cops are gone. My best friend, Kevin, always said that it was safer to wait out cops then run since it would draw more attention. I just pull up the hood of the yellow sweater over my slightly curly black hair to hopefully deter the cops. I see them leave in a cop car with a tow truck carrying the one with a broken windshield

After about an hour I walk home, or at least the only place I have to go home to. It's an old abandoned warehouse in West Hollywood over looking train tracks and Rocque Records where singers and bands, like Big Time Rush, Stevie Baskara and Kacey Simon recorded their hit music with Gustavo Rocque and Nelson Baxster.

I crawl under the barbed wire fence that surrounds the warehouse. The city of Los Angeles wanted to get rid of this place ten years ago, but they never did thinking it would be cheaper just to leave it up. The warehouse is dark and there are old pipes littering the outside. No one other than Kevin and I know about the open window to enter through, the working heater and air conditioning system and running clean water. We've been living here ever since we were 13 years old.

After two and a half years, I think we've made it a good home. I make a bit of money performing in the streets singing covers from the hit music, just enough to cover the cost of food and Kevin works as a garbage collector, but he is amazing at drums though. I'm only fifteen and school is hard. I go by a fake name, Justin Hernedez, which Kevin made up to enroll me. He says while he dropped out to pursue a career in music that never worked out his mother abandoned him and he never looked back.

I became homeless when my mother died. My step-father hated me and was physically abusive. When a few scars were noticed at school, but Grade 7 teacher brought me to the emergency room. My step-father thought that I told my teacher and abused me some more. I packed a carry-on suitcase with clothes, valuables, $1500, and any Ids and ran away. I met Kevin when he was about to mug me in an alley. For whatever reason he didn't, probably because I had my switchblade for defense, but ever since then he became like my brother and took me under his wing. I proved to be a great asset to him being able to steal anything from food, clothing, blankets and luxuries like a brand new pair of drumsticks for his drum set which he stole when he broke into his house to retrieve some possessions. I have had some pretty close calls with the police, the closest being when I escaped from their grip just before being handcuffed and I was almost shot at once. They call me the bandit that never gets caught.

I climb up the pipes to an open window, take off my new sweater and hang it up on a pipe. Kevin isn't home yet, so I go over to the air mattresses that we use for a bed, take out my mother's ukulele and start singing this original song I wrote called "Someday".

I'll follow my dreams.

You'd think they we're nightmares the way they scream.  
I'll make them believe.  
Someday.  
Someday.  
I'm gonna be the next big thing.

I never doubt my dreams.  
Always live 'em out.  
'Imma tell the world.  
They gotta hear me out.  
Just give me one mic so I can scream it loud.  
And I just need someone that I can make proud.  
'Cause I can't wait for that Someday.  
And that Someday, it is coming.  
I wanna share my life with someone who loves me just for me.  
I wanna wish up to the stars, I can.  
I wanna see the lights & the crowd in the stands.  
See myself there like a dream in the past.  
And everything I want, 'Imma get it at last, okay.  
And I know that there's no limit.  
We're perusing all our dreams and we gon' make it.  
And tell the world that the best is yet to come, can you hear me? Oh.

It was awesome, just me the music and no one else. It was the last connection I had with my life four years ago. I checked my watch it was already past eight o'clock, _I guess running from the police takes a lot of time, _I think. That was my lifestyle, Kevin and I had no choice but to steal what we couldn't afford; which was pretty much everything. People have called me a street rat and sometimes I feel like Aladdin before the magic. But this was LA and miracles don't always happen. I change into sweat pants and a t-shirt and start my homework. I'm supposed to be a good student and I try my best to maintain good grades but music is where my heart is at. My friends from school don't know that I'm homeless or that my real name is Zander, not Justin. All I can say is that life isn't easy.

Kevin comes through the window and greets me with a smile. He stinks from all the garbage and I make him wash up. We found a shower in the old employee room and that's what we use to stay clean.

"New sweater?" he asks as he picks up the sweater I stole today.

"Yeah, got it from Old Navy," I respond as I walk towards the stairs to the rooftop. "It was a hard chase from the cops too. Here I'll tell you the story on the rooftop"

We climb the stairs that leads towards the top of the warehouse. He applauds my jump from the roof of a building and laughs when I tell him about the cop car. Beyond the train tracks and plazas you could see the ocean and the entire city of Los Angeles from here. The skyline is beautiful, but the one building that stands out the most is Rocque Records. The concrete and glass that shimmer in the LA sunset is spectacular.

"You know someday I don't want to live like this," I say. As we stare at the Rocque Records.

"What, I thought you love stealing and police chases and the warehouse! You're the last person on earth that I would expect to say that!" says Kevin in shock.

"I do, but I want to sing, perform in front of thousands, have "Zander Robbins" on the top of the charts, have no worries, not have to worry when our next meal will come from," I explain. "Someday, I'm gonna make it big! Like that!" I point to a billboard of Stevie Baskara. She's so beautiful and so talented. If only I could be like her.

"Zander, I never said this," Kevin responds "But me too. If you make it big, I hope to be drumming right there with you. I promise you one thing, right now".

"What?" I ask hoping that it doesn't get me in trouble.

"I'm going to help you get there. I'll do whatever it takes without doing anything illegal."

"Hard to believe that," I joke. Kevin punches me in response.

"Well, Zander you deserve it. You worked hard to get where you are in school considering where you are now and your music rocks and people notice," he explains. "Someday, you're going to make it big and we'll show your step-dad up! So do we have a plan?" he asks extending his hand.

"Fine, thanks you know if we were ever in a band you would be the drummer that everyone thinks is hilarious!" I say as I go back into the warehouse and through the stairwell window Rocque Records glass windows are glimmering in the LA sun. _Going from rags to riches;_ _not a bad plan. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Stevie's POV**

"STEVIE! STEVIE RENE BASKARA! GET IN MY OFFICE NOW!" I heard my manager and music producer Gustavo Rocque yell from his office. That voice in that tone is probably the only thing in the world that could make me jump. I put my bass down and look at my best friend Kacey Simon. We looked at each other and shrugged wondering what I had done wrong; but there's nothing that I remember doing wrong.

Gustavo Rocque is my only fear. I hate confrontations with him as it could affect my career and basically that hippo shaped man can throw elephant-sized rages but for whatever reason I like spending time with him and his assistant Kelly. They know music like no one else does and they've really worked hard to make me the down-to-earth rebellious girl I am today.

"Hey Gustavo! You called?" I asked trying to act innocent.

"Yes. I did. I found this on my front step this morning!" he said as he held up a tabloid. _Man, I hate those things! _On the front cover of the Hollywood Spy showed a picture of me with my ex-boyfriend Justin Cole along with the bolded headline "STEVIE FED UP WITH JUSTIN?" Gustavo's boss Arthur Griffin and Justin's manager put us together for a business pairing in order to get us more popular and sell more CD's, iTunes downloads and what not. I hated that boy like I hated no one in my life. He was a handsome, but horrid jerk who when the paparazzi wasn't around treated me like dirt.

"WHY DID YOU DUMP HIM LIKE THAT? I read the article and you slapped him?" he asked

"Oh that!" I reply. "Gustavo, he was treating me like shit again! In public! I swear before the party he kissed me in front of MTV and after they left I slapped him and he went all 'Oh no one slaps Justin Cole!" then started a rumor between his friends that I'm cheating on him with Carlos! I swear he is more obsessed with himself than James!"

"Okay, I understand," said Kelly Wainwright said. She usually is more sympathetic to me. "But Justin's manager sent us this horrible e-mal saying that you broke the deal by breaking up with him. They want to sue us. I've called the court and they won't respond, but since this wasn't in contract it might be okay."

"Thanks! I swear to be honest I've never liked him," I say in relief.

"Okay that solves that problem, but Hollywood is all about publicity and some obviously the Hollywood Spy has spotted you breaking up with him," Gustavo explains while he's trying to calm himself down. "Justin's manager clearly stated 'You've ruined his publicity and the Hollywood Spy interviewed Justin about what he had done to deserve being dumped'. I swear I don't understand the woman!"

"Well . . . I guess he ruined his own publicity and being single in Hollywood isn't that bad considering I've been single this entire time since I wasn't really dating him," I tell my producer. "Anyway if I do date a guy, I want to really and truly like him; nothing fake. He needs to be supportive and maybe a little musical. I want to find this guy by myself and fall for him just like any other girl would. Kacey did it; she likes Tony Cardella for him not because he's famous."

"So who's gonna be your new, hot, musical, famous boyfriend?" asks Gustavo tauntingly. Kelly punches him causing him to slide his chair back and almost fall off. "On second thought don't answer that!" he replies with Kelly's nodding approval. "Just go come up with new lyrics for a song while I deal with the Dogs."

"Thanks Kelly," I say "And thanks Gustavo try not to make Los Angeles have a 3.1 magnitude earthquake again!" I joke as I exit.

I walk back to the Rocquer Hangout, the nickname we've given to the room where all the bands and artist of Rocque Records hang out. I walk in to see my best friends Kacey Simon, another music superstar who works at Rocque Records. I throw myself on the purple beanbag chair and grab my bass and strum out a few keys even though I've got nothing in mind for a song.

"Hey Stevie what happened in there?" asked Kacey. "I hope Gustavo didn't have another rage again,"

"Don't worry he was just pissed since Justin's manager e-mailed him 'cause he was mad that I broke up with Justin last night."

"Wait last night! At Tony Cardella's party?" she asks in shock. Tony was her boyfriend and last night was his birthday so Kacey threw him an amazing party. I broke up with Justin inside and told him to get lost. He had a group of about nine people around him and one girl gave me a smirk after.

"Yeah, I didn't want you to feel bad; you should have been celebrating with Tony. I swear you're lucky he's such a nice guy! Oh, Gustavo asked me to come up with some new lyrics for a new song! I think I should bring Max out to the dog park so he can just run around and I can work on some new lyrics; want to come?" I ask Kacey while I gather my stuff in my bag.

"Sure why not!" she said. "Catch!" she says as she hands me Max's collar and leash. We head down to Rocque Records basement where all the celebrities' dogs are kept. I ask for Max, my three month old German shepherd puppy. He's excited to see me and I think he is more excited to get out of the kennel.

We exit Rocque Records and onto the streets of downtown LA onto West Fifth Street. A huge crowd of people gather around to what seems to be street performers. I love watching them because they have unbelievable amounts of talent that is just waiting to be discovered. Today it's a guy around my age who has curly black hair and playful eyes; _boy he looks good! _He's playing a ukulele and singing at the base of the unfolded cardboard box, known as the Rocque cube, is a skateboard helmet next to a blue Jansport backpack and a skateboard. I swear some guy like him would be 150 times better than Justin Cole would be ever.

Max is squirming; he doesn't want to wait for me, I guess he just wants to get to the dog park. I accidently let go of the leash and Max goes off and into the crowd. I try to chase him and he literally jumps on one of best friends Nelson Baxster. He's surprised at the shock of a dog randomly jumping at him, which understandable.

"Nelson! Are you okay? I'm sorry 'bout Max jumping on you like that!" I apologize quickly.

"It's aight!" he says. I swear he is the last person you would expect to say "aight" but ever since he moved to California from Oklahoma he's been saying it and its became a catchphrase of his.

"Cool, at least Max didn't use his teeth to bring you down! A German shepherd could easily injure you with those teeth," I told him in relief that Max didn't get away and injure a complete stranger. "So who's the guy playing he's pretty good?"

"Don't know. He hasn't told anyone his name," Nelson said, "I've been here for ten minutes, then I left to get a coffee, and he was still here when I came back. I think I listened to him for about twenty minutes."

"Wow, if all these people came to see him he must be really amazing," Kacey said as she sneaked up on me.

"Yeah, your right! When he finishes performing or when he stops or people leave, I should get his name. That guys is really good and I think Gustavo would like to give him a demo," I say.

"Maybe he could be your new boyfriend," joked Kacey. I gave her one of my "What did you just say to me" stares and she quickly says "Or part of that band that Nelson and I are trying to create."

I was pulling out my songbook hoping that I could record this guy's name, but Max wiggled out of his collar.

"MAX, MAX COME BACK!" I yell chasing after that dog. "BYE NELSON! KACEY HURRY UP! HELP!" Kacey runs after me in her heels. I finally catch Max and I reattach his collar. "Okay, we need to be more focused and watch Max better. Otherwise this will happen again."

"Agreed!" said Kacey. "Oh my God! Stevie we, well more like you forgot!"

"What did I forget?" I ask confused on what she meant. I have Max, my bag and the contents in it and my songbook so I don't know what is missing.

"Remember the guy, the one performing with the ukulele. You wanted to get his number or name, can't remember which one you said I was half paying attention to you and Nelson and half-paying attention to the guy.

"Oh crap! I didn't realize that! I was just thinking of Max! Okay, um . . . let's run back. Maybe he could still be there!" I respond. I really wanted to know that guy.

We run back to Rocque Records, which was exceptionally difficult for Kacey since she was in her heels, but when we arrive he's gone. _Great, my one chance at someone who seems normal and a great music partner and I blew it. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Zander's POV**

While I was performing my cover of Marianas Trench's song, "Fallout", in front of Rocque Records I saw Stevie Baskara and Kacey Simon watch me and stay in the crowd but only for a brief moment. That was an amazing sight, first because Stevie is just beautiful but more for the fact that she is so talented and so dedicated in her music. At least that's what they tell you from the interviews on TV and tabloids.

I began my next song, one that just happens to be one of my personal favourites, a cover of Alex Goot's song "Lightning":

"Just stare me down with those electric eyes  
No matter how hard I try,  
I can't escape that gaze tonight  
That girl's up in the atmosphere  
That girl's up in the atmosphere

I'm hypnotized by the way she moves  
Baby girl please help me soon,  
Imma take you to sun and the moon  
That girl's up in the atmosphere  
That girl's up in the atmosphere

And I've been catching myself thinking of it  
It's 3 in the morning,  
Every day I chase after her  
But I can't catch lightning  
Catching myself thinking of it  
It's 3 in the morning,  
Every day I chase after her  
But I can't catch lightning

No I can't catch lightning

She'll make you believe anything she wants  
Make you think that you're the one  
She will keep you there

That girl's up in the atmosphere  
She's way up in the atmosphere

And I've been catching myself thinking of it  
It's 3 in the morning,

Every day I chase after her  
But I can't catch lightning  
Catching myself thinking of it  
It's 3 in the morning,  
Every day I chase after . . ."

Damn, a bus screeches to a halt at the nearby bus stop plowing through a puddle of water soaking the crowd, including myself. The wave of water washes over us, the crowd disperses and quickly moves away from Rocque Records and disperses into the pedestrian traffic.

"C'mon! It's just water!" I yell in desperation for at some of the former crowd to stay. "I've got tons more songs!" But it's no use as everyone is gone; all but one young man who looks my age or just a little older. I pick up the paper cup I was collecting money in and see only a few dollar bills but a lot of coins. The man walks up to me and puts in a ten dollar bill.

"Sweet music dude!" he compliments.

"Thanks that means a lot!" I reply as I sling my ukulele around my neck and onto my back. "Oh and thanks for the cash! So you play music?" I ask.

"Just keyboard, piano, that sort of stuff, um, I'm Nelson Baxster," he says, extending his hand for a shake.

"Zander, nice to meet you," I say. "I saw you talking to Stevie Baskara and Kacey Simon earlier, you know them?"

"Yeah, Stevie and I were old childhood friends in LA and right now I'm working for her and Gustavo Rocque as a keyboardist and pianist," he answers. His phone beeps and he pulls it out and checks the text message with me standing there awkwardly. "Oh, sorry to end this conversation early but Gustavo needs me back upstairs."

"It's aight," I say. "It must be cool being musician at Rocque Records with Stevie Baskara and legendary music producer Gustavo Rocque."

"Yeah it's fun, the next time I see you it better be on an album cover," he says. "You never know one day you could be as famous as her." He points behind me. I turn around and see a bus wrapped with an advertisement for Stevie Baskara's cover of the song "You and I" which she performed with her boyfriend Justin Cole.

"Thanks a lot," I say to Nelson. "Um, you should really get inside doesn't Gustavo want you upstairs right now?"

"Oh crap, thanks a lot Zander!" he says and he rushes inside. Out of his jacket pocket he drops a large, folded envelope onto the sidewalk.

"NELSON!" I yell "YOU'VE DROPED SOMETHING!" He doesn't come back. The envelope wasn't sealed and my curiosity gets the better of me and I peek inside. The only contents were a few papers, two CDs and a USB. It's no use for me and I don't think I can make money off them because I don't know who would want them so I might as well return them.

I pick up my skateboard and helmet and stash the money I've earned into my jeans pocket and walk inside. The place was buzzing with people rushing everywhere. Even though this was a music studio people some with briefcases and business suits are rushing around from the elevators and corridors surrounding the lobby. At least that's what I can see behind the security screeners. Most of the employees coming in behind me just scan a card and they're in, but a security officer directs me through a metal detector and I put my skateboard, helmet and envelope through an X-ray scanner. Rocque Records has some pretty tight security.

Once I clear security I find the reception desk. A small Asian woman is behind the counter taking phone calls and transferring the call to a different line. The countertop is littered with clipboards with application sheets and pens.

"Applications for the part-time janitor job are on the purple and green clipboards," the woman tells me pointing to the counter.

"Oh, I'm not applying . . . Wait this place is hiring for a janitor job?" I ask curiously. "How much does it pay?"

"Hold please," she answers into the phone. "It pays $11.25 an hour. You'll need a little experience, but they're really desperate for a janitor on the higher floors where Gustavo Rocque works and so far there are hardly any applicants."

"Really, now . . . yeah I've got some experience," I tell her as I fill out a form, which isn't a lie. When I saw 11 back in New York, the police station once made me clean an old folk's home as community service after my friend and I robbed a convenience store back in The Bronx. My father was pissed but I learned how to clean which came in handy back at "home". Kevin didn't like cleaning that much and if it weren't for me that the warehouse would be filled neck high with garbage. I just made the place livable and Kevin repays me by calling me a "neat-freak".

I return the clipboard to her along with the envelope that Nelson dropped. I explain the situation and she nods.

"Ah Nelson. I love the way his eyes just sparkle and his hair flops just the right way," she was dreamily. I slowly back away and leave her in her fantasy about Nelson. That was a little awkward for me. I check my phone, which I stole of course, to check the time. It was 4:56 already and I still needed to get home. I hope the subway is actually fast today. If I make it to the warehouse after dark then there is always the possibility of being jumped. Between the Metro station and the warehouse and in between there's this gang of men in their early twenties. I've ran into them twice and the second time I woke up to find myself in a ambulance with blood stains on my sweater and my English teacher, Mr. Tuscalusa, who is the only person to know about my actual life come get me from the hospital.

I hope off the Metro and begin the ten minute walk to the warehouse. Walking through my neighbourhood, I try my best to act tough and show as little fear as possible. Muggers smell fear and if you act scared and weak you'll be their first target. I turn the corner and see the "Strutters" the most vicious gang that ever roamed Los Angeles and who jumped me a year ago. I hid in between a couple of dumpsters and wait for them to leave. When the coast is clear I literally sprint home, crawl quickly under the barbed wire fence and safe at last.

Kevin was taking a nap on the air mattresses and as usual left a mess. Luckily there wasn't a smell. My jacket is soaked from the bus but for the most part I was dry. Littered around our make-shift" bedroom on the fourth floor of the warehouse was his work clothes, a pair of drumsticks and a half-eaten burrito. Strange since we were technically "homeless" he spent money to get a snack from Taco Bell. On his chest was the iPhone I stole from the Apple Store which I got him for his birthday from the Apple Store. _Ah, that was a good chase from Officer Paterna. _It was on the Furious Pigeons app, which is his favourite video game of all time, I mean he is obsessed.

I throw my ukulele and skateboard on my "bed" and pick up a note that was obviously left by Kevin taped onto the wall. It read "_Yo Zander! Dude, I'm gonna take a nap, so when you come home, clean up a little bit, and charge my phone. Oh while you're at it, you can make the two of us something to eat you know that burrito was just a small snack. – Kevin" _

Classic Kevin, always hungry. I begin cleaning the mess and it's something I'm used to doing. I find Kevin's phone charger and his phone is right next to his right arm on the air mattress. I don't want to disturb Kevin so I try to take it without waking him, but for whatever reason the second I pick up the phone, Kevin jumps us and flips me. I land on the air mattress and it begins to deflate.

"What the heck was that for?!" I yell. Then I punch him back in the arm. He laughs playfully. "I guess your plan backfired," I say laughing.

"I can't believe you fell for that and what do you mean?" he asks confused. I point to the air mattress all ready deflated. "Oh, I see what you mean!" he responds. "Anything happen today?"

"Oh, I made 'bout $20 performing on the streets and I applied for a job," I respond

"Where and what's the job?" Kevin asks surprised.

"Rocque Records," I say proudly. "But I'm working as a janitor."

"At least if you're not in the music you can at least be close to it. You never know who you will run into. When will they tell you?"

"I don't really know but soon, with the extra money maybe I can buy things legally for once in my life!"


End file.
